Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(74)

And then she wrote something else: an entirely new entry, because he made her feel entirely new things. Another wish, another manifestation, a stepping stone to an ideal future she only dared to peek at through splayed fingers. One she was determined to reach out and grab.

8. Keep Red.





Contacting Annie proved to be the easiest list item Chloe had ever completed. When she forced herself to find the mysterious hot pink card and type its number into her phone, she was still on a list-editing high, utterly dauntless. Perhaps that was why, when Annie suggested coffee that very afternoon, Chloe agreed without even checking her schedule.

She was spontaneous, after all. She was flexible. She was committed to her new and improved list.

Hours later, she was also nervous. She sat at a table in a busy, overloud, and likely unhygienic coffee shop in Harebell, which could only be described as the hipster quarter of the city. Of course Annie, with her strange outfits and excellent business cards, had wanted to meet here. And yet, she wasn’t here, leaving Chloe to sit by the cold window like a shivering loner.

Wonderful.

But waiting wasn’t all bad. It gave her time to text her new favorite contact.

CHLOE: Guess where I am?

RED: Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro?

CHLOE: Not yet.

RED: I hope you haven’t gone to New York without me.



She stared at that message for long, happy heartbeats, a thousand wonderful implications threading through her mind like a never-ending daisy chain. Perhaps they’d go to New York together. Because they were together. And they shared goals and future plans. And things.

CHLOE: I’d never go without you. I’m at a coffee shop waiting for Annie.

RED: What?

RED: ANNIE Annie?

RED: Actually, I don’t care which Annie it is. You’re waiting for someone? To have coffee? Not to throw the coffee at them, or anything, but to actually have coffee?



She snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth.

CHLOE: YES. Honestly, what on earth do you think of me?

RED: That you’re short-tempered and always interesting.

CHLOE: You are a very difficult man.

RED: That must make me perfect for you.



She was still smiling when Annie arrived.

“Chloe!” Annie plonked herself down in the seat across the table with a sound like a bubble bursting. “There you are!”

Chloe stared. There she was? She’d been here for the last thirty minutes, for Christ’s sake. “Yes,” she said dryly. “Here I am.”

“So sorry I’m late. I’ve had a Marmite disaster.”

“Oh. That sounds …”

“Vitamin rich? Very.” Annie’s golden curls were pinned almost flat to her head with what appeared to be a thousand black hair slides. She was wearing her enormous camo coat again, but she unzipped it to reveal a surprisingly ordinary outfit that consisted of jeans and a raspberry-colored jumper. “Coffee?” she asked brightly.

Since Chloe had been politely waiting before ordering, and ignoring the death glares of the lady behind the counter, for half an hour, she nodded eagerly before realizing what she was agreeing to. “Oh—no coffee for me, but I’ll get tea.”

“My treat!” Annie was up and off before Chloe could say another word. She was so … springy. Energetic. Possibly earnest, potentially a master of sarcasm. Chloe wasn’t sure which, but she suspected her own prickliness stemmed from an urgent desire to find out, and a worry that she never would. How long had it been since she’d made and kept a friend? So long she must have lost the ability, rather like a wasted muscle. She should’ve been doing social exercises alongside her physiotherapy all these years. She found her own distorted reflection in the shiny metal sugar cup at the center of the table and gave herself a stern look. “Pull yourself together,” she told the metallic Chloe with the aubergine-shaped head. “Think victorious thoughts. Triumphant thoughts. The thoughts of a woman who succeeds in all endeavors.”

“An excellent philosophy!” Annie said.

Oops. Chloe slapped on a smile and tried to look less like someone who encouraged their own reflection in the middle of cool coffee shops.

Annie set down a tray of hot drinks, took her seat again, and said, “So! Are you still cross with me about Perdita?”

“I—erm—oh, gosh, I wasn’t cross with you—”

“I know you were. I would be, too, if it were me. Perdy’s a doll.” Annie paused. “Well, as far as cats go. I don’t actually like them that much.”

Chloe stared. “You don’t?”

“Gosh, no. I’m more of a dog person. But the thing is, I have to look after them. It’s part of the deal.”

“The deal?”

Annie’s voice dropped. “With the goddess of the underworld.”

Oh dear.

Annie’s voice dropped further as she went on, “My mother.”

Ah. That was quite a bit less bonkers.

“You made some sort of deal with your mother that involves looking after cats?”

“Eleven cats. Thankfully, most are outdoors. I have to keep them all safe and tend to their needs with my own fair hand as much as is possible.”

Chloe stared, aghast. “And what on earth do you get out of the bargain?”